The longer a person is gone from this world, the more we begin to forget. We forget how they sound, how they act, and maybe even what they look like. My grandfather died almost 4 years ago, and I’m already starting to forget. I do remember some though.
He had short, white/silver hair that lay in a sort of comb-over on his head. His pale features we’re calloused and weathered from long, hard days in the coal mines and working outside. His face had laugh lines slightly hidden by wrinkles, but still visible. He was tall and thin, but not very muscular. Every day he wore jean with a flannel shirt and an old t-shirt underneath. Only on Sundays or holidays would he trade in his ratty work clothes for a suit and tie, pressed to perfection. Of course, he wasn’t one to care about perfections. He spoke with a Pennsylvanian accent and a bit of improper grammar that came with the slang of his childhood. He would start using polish words in the middle of a complete English sentence just to make you think about the meaning. He was a child at heart. He would always be telling a joke, or messing with someone just for fun.
I remember as a small child, between the ages of 3 and 5, living in Florida, and being so far away from my grandparents. Once every year or two they would come to visit, and every time you could count on seeing My grandfather in the driver’s seat saying in this matter-of-fact voice to my grandmother that he wasn’t lost, and that he’d gotten them there on time. The years they didn’t come visit us, we would visit them. We would always head up around Christmas so I could get my presents and could play in the snow. My grandfather would always help me build a snowman then rush me inside to get the hot chocolate that would be waiting for us.
After I turned 5, my father retired from the Air Force meaning we could live where we’d like. We moved to Pennsylvania about 7 minutes away from my grandparents. Because we lived so close, I was able to see them a lot more. I would go to their house on the weekends, and on days when my mother worked but I did not have to go to school for some reason or another. In the mornings, my grandfather and I would watch Loony Tunes and Tom and Jerry marathons together. Well, more like I would watch the marathons and he would fall asleep in his old, blue, felt recliner, leaving me to wake him up repeatedly. He enjoyed the shows though. If he was awake, he would tell me stories about the characters, or give Tom and Jerry voices as they endlessly chased each other around and around.
This is what I most remember about my grandfather. He died July 3, 2008 from brain cancer, which originated in his lungs. Even with the sickness he had, he still found time to have fun and joke around. The only signs of his sickness were the physical features on him. His hair thinned and his muscles depleted, he looked like a very weak and ill man, but his spirit and heart or youth kept him alive long enough to see my brother, his grandson, be born and grow for a few years before passing away. We all miss him, and he will forever e in our hearts and minds.
He had short, white/silver hair that lay in a sort of comb-over on his head. His pale features we’re calloused and weathered from long, hard days in the coal mines and working outside. His face had laugh lines slightly hidden by wrinkles, but still visible. He was tall and thin, but not very muscular. Every day he wore jean with a flannel shirt and an old t-shirt underneath. Only on Sundays or holidays would he trade in his ratty work clothes for a suit and tie, pressed to perfection. Of course, he wasn’t one to care about perfections. He spoke with a Pennsylvanian accent and a bit of improper grammar that came with the slang of his childhood. He would start using polish words in the middle of a complete English sentence just to make you think about the meaning. He was a child at heart. He would always be telling a joke, or messing with someone just for fun.
I remember as a small child, between the ages of 3 and 5, living in Florida, and being so far away from my grandparents. Once every year or two they would come to visit, and every time you could count on seeing My grandfather in the driver’s seat saying in this matter-of-fact voice to my grandmother that he wasn’t lost, and that he’d gotten them there on time. The years they didn’t come visit us, we would visit them. We would always head up around Christmas so I could get my presents and could play in the snow. My grandfather would always help me build a snowman then rush me inside to get the hot chocolate that would be waiting for us.
After I turned 5, my father retired from the Air Force meaning we could live where we’d like. We moved to Pennsylvania about 7 minutes away from my grandparents. Because we lived so close, I was able to see them a lot more. I would go to their house on the weekends, and on days when my mother worked but I did not have to go to school for some reason or another. In the mornings, my grandfather and I would watch Loony Tunes and Tom and Jerry marathons together. Well, more like I would watch the marathons and he would fall asleep in his old, blue, felt recliner, leaving me to wake him up repeatedly. He enjoyed the shows though. If he was awake, he would tell me stories about the characters, or give Tom and Jerry voices as they endlessly chased each other around and around.
This is what I most remember about my grandfather. He died July 3, 2008 from brain cancer, which originated in his lungs. Even with the sickness he had, he still found time to have fun and joke around. The only signs of his sickness were the physical features on him. His hair thinned and his muscles depleted, he looked like a very weak and ill man, but his spirit and heart or youth kept him alive long enough to see my brother, his grandson, be born and grow for a few years before passing away. We all miss him, and he will forever e in our hearts and minds.
-ES
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